Desiree's Story: A Crimson Tale set in 1815
by laurencia98
Summary: An outcast of her aristocratic father, Desiree looks for love with a mysterious Count. Inspired by characters from Roman Polanski and Jim Steinman's Tanz der Vampire/Dance of the Vampires


Desiree's Story  
England, 1815  
  
Desiree listened excitedly from behind the door as she recognized the joyous sounds that signaled the arrival of the master of the house. James Hightower had just arrived from a trip from America concerning his businesses in the young country, and his family hoped that he had news of more prosperity for them. She heard the excited chirpings of the Master's two daughters, Mary and Abigail, and the bursts of happy laughter from his wife Rebecca. "What news, Papa? What news?," chirped the girls.  
"Well, my lovelies, you are to be presented at court due to my latest voyage! It was very profitable," replied James.  
"Presented at court, Papa?," they all chimed in unison.  
"Yes, my dears, to be presented to the Prince Regent," said James, patting them on their heads.  
"My daughters in the Prince's court!," exclaimed Rebecca, embracing the two girls.  
Desiree took her ear away from the door, having no further interest in what was being said by the merry voices from the other room. They were not concerned with her. She walked slowly back to her room, and looked into the mirror by her bed. Desiree saw a girl who from the outside who was vastly different from the other girls of the house. Her clothes, although made of fine cloth, were those that had been cast aside by Mary and Abigail. Her olive skin and long dark hair contrasted drastically from the pink cheeks and flaxen tresses of the other girls. In fact, one would have not thought that they were sisters at all.  
Desiree had lived in America until she was five years old with her mother, who had died of yellow fever. Nothing would have been unusual about this had not her mother been her father's slave. James had been with his mistress when she died, and vowed to honor her last request that he take the child back to England with him. Desiree knew that her birth was a dishonor to her father, and she lived that dishonor every time James's family lay eyes on her. She knew the whispers so well...."The poor little girl...she could be powdered to look English, but who would marry a girl born in such circumstances?" "It's disgraceful that James would bring her into the house with his other daughters..." The hushed words echoed in her ears like canons being fired over her head.  
"Mama, you always called me a princess.... How is it that I feel so unlike one?," she said to herself. It was not that her father had not provided well for her. Desiree had been given an education, and had much finer clothes than most girls in of her station. She had studied art and languages with her father, and could read and write fluently in English and French. When his wife and other children went away to their summer home, he would take his daughter to galleries and buy her a new gown or hat. Desiree did not fault her father in his treatment of her, however she did feel a great pain in her heart when he talked of things such as presenting his other daughters to the Prince.  
"Desiree," called James Hightower's voice, cracking the door to her room.  
"Papa!," she cried, throwing her arms around him. She was always thrilled for him to come back and give her news of things in America.  
"I have not forgotten my pretty girl," he said happily, and handed her a small box.  
She eagerly untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid. Inside was an ivory Spanish comb for her ebony tresses. "It's lovely, Papa," she said, kissing him on the cheek.  
"I'm glad you like it, Desiree, because I want you to wear it to the Prince Regent's ball," announced her father.  
Desiree's face became alight for an instant, then turned dark. "But, Papa, how can you do that? Will not they know that I am not like your other daughters?"  
"We both know that I cannot announce you as my child to the Prince, Desiree. It is not as I wish for it to be, but that is the world we live in. However, it is possible for you to go to the ball as an attendant for your sisters," replied James.  
Desiree had to admit to herself that the joy of going to the ball dimmed a bit at the prospect of attending Mary and Abigail, but at least it would be a party! There would be dancing, ballgowns, chandeliers, and Princes! "Of course, Papa," she replied, trying not to let a slight bit of bitterness show.  
"Perhaps we will one day live in a world where I can call you my own, Desiree, but this is not that world, my dear. I wanted to tell you that many young men will be at the ball. They will more than likely find you attractive, even beautiful. Perhaps, if God is kind and you are fortunate, a younger son of a Baron or Earl will take an interest in you. There is a certain exotic look about you, but it is nothing that powder will not mask. They will probably think you a little Spanish rose at the ball," said James.  
"I do not like having to lie about my mother, Papa," replied Desiree.  
"I am not asking you to lie, Desiree. What the lad doesn't know will not hurt him, and it will benefit you quite a lot. Trust your father on this, my dear. I want you to have a husband with a fine house who will be able to give you a good life. You are fortunate to resemble a European. The world is not kind to women like your mother," said James.  
"But you loved her," began Desiree.  
James paused for a moment. "Yes, I did, but it was not to be. We love many things, Desiree, yet the world denies them to us." Desiree just looked at him quizzically as if she expected another answer. "But do not worry, my belle. You will go to the ball, and there you will find excitement." *  
The room seemed to swirl around Desiree as she watched the beautiful couples waltz. It seemed like only moments ago when she herself was being twirled around the ballroom floor by one of those handsome young men. Her Papa had been right when he said the ball would be exciting. She had never seen so many beautiful people in one place a the same time. Desiree had to give a wry smile at the fact that she had received more invitations to waltz than Mary or Abigail.  
The Prince Regent appeared at the top of the palace stairs and announced, "My guests, we will now dine, and then continue with our dancing." The Prince was a merry man, but he was a bit fatter than Desiree had imagined. A young man had asked her to dine beside him at the Prince's table, and she was ecstatic that she did not have to go with the other attendants to a separate room.  
Abigail peered coyly at Desiree over the rim of her wine goblet before she said in a voice loud enough to grab the attention of all those seated near, "Desiree, you must tell the gentlemen how it feels to be a mulatto half-breed one moment and the belle of the Prince Regent's ball the next."  
Fear, anger, and hate spread across Desiree's face at the words of her half-sister. Tears formed at the rims of her eyes when she saw the expression of the young man she was with change. A moment ago, he had looked at her as if she was a princess, but a look of contempt was written across his brow. "A what? I beg your pardon?," he asked rather hotly.  
"I am very sorry. I should have told you that she was my attendant. It was quite silly of me," mewed Abigail. "Desiree, I think Father told you that it was your duty to mind my cape and fan, not my suitors."  
Desiree's eyes searched frantically for someone to defend her against Abigail's words, but she knew it was not to be. Already the looks of scorn, and the whispers had started down the banquet table. What could she say? What could she do? Abigail had already spun a web of hate around her. Desiree slowly pulled herself away from the table, and walked like a ghost back to the ballroom. The anger and pain in her heart made her want to rip Abigail's hair out and tell every one of the pompous, over-dressed fops to rot in Hell, but she knew she could not because of her father. Tears poured down her cheeks, streaking the powder that her father had insisted upon. She wiped it from her face with her handkerchief, and said to herself, "I am what I am, and these people will not force me to hide from it!"  
The evening seemed to go by slowly now. The excitement had been too much to hope for it to last. Her eyes felt as if they were about to burst with tears as she heard the gossips and their snobbery. Suddenly, as if an invisible force told her to do so, she raised her head. Standing in front of her was a tall, enigmatic looking man. He was finely dressed in black, and his boots reflected the candlelight of the ballroom. Desiree felt uneasy as he approached her, and her heart felt as if it would escape from her chest when he touched her hand. "A beautiful woman should not be alone at a party," he said as she curtseyed. "Come waltz with me."  
Desiree did not know what it was about this man that compelled her to glide so freely in his arms. She only knew that the piercing depths of his eyes seemed to burn into hers with such a powerful intensity. Waltzing with him seemed like more of a rite of passage rather than a simple dance. It was almost a supernatural feeling when she felt herself perfectly following his lead. "What is your name?," he asked quietly in a Germanic accent, as if asking her some dark secret.  
"Desiree, Sir," she replied in a trembling voice.  
"I am Count Henrich von Krolock," he replied in a voice that could have only been refined by centuries of royal blood. Desiree could not remove her eyes from his gaze, and her feet seemed to be moving with such agility that she doubted her control over them. She hardly noticed that everyone else was backing away from the ballroom floor, until it was just she and the Count. He whirled her around the room with such energy, and then gracefully returned her to his arms. The waltz ended, and the Count kissed her hand softly. "Join me for the rest of the evening, Desiree."  
She could hear the snide remarks and mumblings from the guests when she bowed for the Count, but they did not seem to matter. "I would be delighted," she replied with a smile. Desiree took his proffered arm, and smiled as he walked with her out to the terrace.  
"You are not like them, are you, Desiree?," he asked once they were alone. She stiffened at his words, and her eyes avoided him. "Your eyes tell me a story, my dear. It is good that you are not like them."  
"How is that so, Excellency? They seem to have everything....everything that anyone could ever desire to have," replied Desiree.  
"They have nothing. All those stuffed fops and spangled gowns waltz merrily to their grave, Desiree," he replied darkly.  
"Are we not all headed for one grave or another?," asked Desiree.  
The Count smiled, and said, "I suppose so, but enough of these morbid curiosities. I watched you from across the ballroom as you danced with the others, and I knew there was something that set you apart from all other women here tonight. I thought that it could be your beautiful white gown set against your glowing skin, or your eyes of night, but then it occurred to me what it was. It was your soul. I saw in you myself, walking among the others, trying to be one of them, but failing because it is impossible to deny what you are."  
"You talk like one of my father's philosophy books, Excellency. This dress belonged to one of my white sisters. She threw it aside, and I chose to wear it tonight," she said with a smile.  
"There is much nonsense and foolery in books, my dear, but you will find that I will never fill your head with foolishness," replied the Count. "And I speak not foolishly when I say that your sister is filled with hate and jealously when she sees you wear her old gown more beautifully than she could ever dream of doing."  
"Now you are flattering me," replied Desiree.  
"Nay, my dear. You are like a perfect china doll that they seek to break, simply because your maker has fashioned you differently," said the Count.  
"Why do you say these things to me? I would think it flattery from any other man, but something about you tells me that you are beyond jesting, Excellency," said Desiree.  
"I say this to you because it is true," said the Count, placing his gloved hand on her shoulder. "You are such a treasure that I would take you to my castle and bedeck you in velvet and tiaras at your word."  
"Where is your castle, Excellency?," asked Desiree, smiling at his words.  
"Far away in the heart of Bavaria," he replied.  
"It sounds wonderful. How many times I have longed to be away from England! To be anywhere where I am not considered the shame of the family!," she said, spilling her frustration to the Count.  
"Perhaps one day I will take you there, but until that time, I give you this to remember me by," he said, presenting a beautiful diamond ring to her. She gasped as it glittered in the palm of his gloved hand. "You will take this from me without any protests, my dear. It becomes your little hand perfectly," continued the Count, placing it on her thin finger.  
"It looks like something Marie Antoinette would have worn!," gasped Desiree.  
"Yes, I think it was Marie Antoinette who gave it to me," he said, a smile spreading over his face.  
"This ring would be a prize worthy of a Queen! I do not understand why I am worthy of it," said Desiree.  
"You are a Queen to me," he said, kissing her soft cheek.  
"And you do not mind that I am.....," she began.  
The Count put his finger to her lips, then he moved to kiss her. Desiree had never been kissed before, much less by a count, so his lips startled her innocence. An eternity seemed to pass as he caressed her, and she felt as if she could die in his arms.  
"I want to go away with you, Excellency!," she said against his mouth.  
"No, not now, Desiree," he replied. Even the way he said her name seemed hypnotic. The Count quickly turned his back to her as if he were fighting some invisible force. "It is cold outside tonight. You should go inside."  
"I want to be here with you! Never have I heard anyone speak as you do! You seem to have all the knowledge of my father's books combined. I love and cherish the words you have said to me even in this brief moment of time," she said passionately.  
"I will call for you, but until that time, speak not of the things I have said to you. They are for our ears only, and they will loose their wonder if you share them," said the Count.  
"Please do not make me wait long upon your call. I have so many things I want to ask you....so many things that only you can answer for me. I have a strange feeling that you are the one to set me free from my bondage, Excellency," said Desiree.  
"I long to answer these things for you," he replied, kissing her hand.  
Desiree put her hand to his cheek, and said softly, "You are so cold, Excellency. I worry for you."  
The Count smiled a little wistfully. "Do worry for me, my dear. It is a cold night. I will walk you back to the ballroom."  
"I will wait at the door for your message. Please do not let it be long," said Desiree, holding his arm tightly.  
"Nay, t'will not be long," he said, kissing the corners of her eyes. "Not long at all."  
"Good night, Excellency," she said, slowly parting from him.  
"Gute Nacht, meine Liebe," said the Count against the softness of her hand.  
Desiree glanced away from the Count for a brief moment to study her reflection in one of the gilded mirrors that were scattered throughout the entrance to the ballroom. Her blood ran cold when she peered into the mirror, for where the Count's refection should have been, there was nothing. She could see him standing behind her out of the corner of her eye, but when she spun around to face him, he was gone. Desiree ran back onto the terrace to catch him, but he was not to be seen. Her heart beat with desperation to see him. He disappeared into the night just as he had came. She felt the ring he had given her on her finger, proof that the events of the evening had taken place. Her heart seemed to pound in her chest as her eyes searched wildly for any trace of him. "Excellency!," she called out to the emptiness, but there was no reply. Who was this man, and why was he so much different than the other aristocrats at the ball? "Will I ever see you again, my mysterious Count von Krolock, or have you vanished along with my joy this night?," she asked herself while clutching the icy cold diamond he had bestowed upon her to her chest. *  
Desiree quitely polished the Mistress's fine silver as she had been sentanced to do after the ball. It made her stomach turn to see Abigail and Anne sniggering at her everytime they passed her. "Desiree, we must ask, where is the aristocrat you danced with last night? Do not tell me that he found out you are a half-breed and left you?," laughed Abigail.  
"You are only jealous, Abigail," replied Desiree quite calmly.  
"Jealous of you?," she retorted. "At least my mother wasn't a voodo witch like yours!"  
"Abigail, if my mother had been a voodo witch, I suspect that you would have already been cursed by her," said Desiree with a new found courage.  
"How dare you! Papa will see you back to the Americas for this!," screamed Abigail.  
"You forget that we are sisters. His blood runs through my veins as well," said Desiree.  
"But you are not like us. You were born in the filthy quarters of New Orleans, and I was born in wedlock. You will find that we will always win over you," said Abigail, flouncing by with Anna in tow.  
Desiree clintched her teeth in anger, and threw one of the silver spoons soundly to the floor. How she longed for the Count to call upon her, and take her out of this misery. But she had no idea if she would ever see him again. His departure had been abrupt at the ball, and she tried not to have her heart too set on his return. However, there was something about this stranger that mesmerised her. With that thought echoing through her mind, she heard a slight tap at the window. She was fearful about opening the windows at night, but she was compelled to do so. The icy wind blew against her face, and she quickly closed the shutters. When she turned around, however, she saw a beautiful golden garment box with a magnificent crested letter beside it. Slowly, she approached the box. Desiree was certain that it had not been there before. "Papa....Abigail," she said softly, hoping that neither one would answer. "Excellency...," trailed her voice. Just as she called for him, the sealed letter flew into her hand. Desiree gasped, and a look of pure bewilderment spread across her face. She locked the door to the silver room, and her hands nervously opened the letter. Desiree almost hated to break the beautiful seal the closed the envelope, but she had to see that it was from the Count. Written in elegant scrip were these words:  
  
"Meine Liebe, I have not forgotten you. I invite you to a supper with me tomorrow night at sunset. In keeping with my promise to shower you with lavish things, I have a gift for you. Wear this for me tomorrow as we dine. I will come for you at the appointed time. Wait for my carriage to arrive. You will know when you see it. Be ready at sunset.  
  
Your Servant, Count von Krolock"  
  
Desiree quickly stuffed the letter into her bodice, and gathered the gold box in her arms. She quietly made her way up stairs as not to attract the attention of anyone in the house. Once in the safety of her own room, she locked the door behind her. There was something about the Count's letter that thrilled and terrified her all at the same time. How did he manage to place the garment box in the silver room without being noticed by anyone, and how did he disappear into thin air at the ball? However, she doubted that he was a man to be asked many questions.  
Her hands carefully untied the lovely ribbons around the box, and removed the lid. She gasped in absolute wonder at the gown she saw before her. It was the most pure white duchess satin, and a brilliant crimson silk sash adored the waist. Desiree gently touched the gown with the tips of her fingers, and a tear came to her eye. "All this for me?," she asked herself wonderously. "Why would he doe this for me?"  
His invitation kept echoing in her mind, along with the hope that he would take her away from England. "Papa will try to stop me...and he will take these things from me if he finds them. I must not let that happen," she said. Desiree hid the dress under the bed, and made sure that the ring was still in the crack on her wall where she had placed it before. "I will go to the Count's supper." *  
The Next evening at sunset....  
  
Desiree covered her beautiful gown with her old cloak, and climbed from her window to the street below. It was not a long climb, but she took care not to tear her gown on the thorns and jagged edges of the wall. She hid in the shadows for a few moments before a large, stately carriage arrived at the corner of the house. Desiree quickly ran towards it, recongnising the Count's seal upon the livery. "Madame Desiree, I presume?," said the man at the reins of the carriage.  
"Yes, it is I! Hurry, we must make hast!," she said, climbing into the carriage.  
"Very well, Madame," he said, pulling away from the house.  
Desiree prayed that her father or her sisters had not seen the carriage, but she could not worry about that now. She was on her way to dine with a nobeleman, a nobleman who she hoped would be willing to take her away with him. *  
Desiree slowly walked down the hall of the Count's enourmous mansion, and gasped. "It's almost as large as Kinsington Palace," she said, and the footman smiled at her words. He was also the same man who had been driving the carriage. "Are their any other servants?," she asked, looking around the emense, silent hall.  
"No, only I, Madame. The Count likes his privacy, and too many servants is something he definately does not want," replied the man.  
"Where is His Excellency?," she asked a little nervously.  
"He is already in the dining hall. Come this way please," said the footman.  
Desiree could not help but notice how dark the entire mansion was save for a few candelabras in the hallways. Shadows floated about the halls like forelorn ghosts, and she could not supress a shiver from running down her spine. They came to two enourmous stately doors, and the footman slowly opened them. "Excellency," he said with enourmous reverence. "She is here."  
There was a pause. "Show her in," said the Count's voice. Desiree entered the candlelit room gingerly, and beheld the Count at the head of an enourmous table. Two candles were before him, and she had the feeling that she was entering the throne room of a king as she approached him. The large oaken table was almost black with age, and its thick legs were covered with engravings.  
"Good evening, Excellency," she replied timidly.  
"Welcome, my dear. I am very happy that you are joining me this evening. I have so few visitors," said the Count. Desiree just looked around the dark, forboding room with wide eyes. "Does this place displease you?"  
"It's an unhappy room, Excellency," she replied.  
"Yes, the rooms of old houses are often unhappy. They have witnessed many sorrowful things I suppose," said the Count. "Just as those who live long must ultimately feel unhappiness at the thought of their beauty and vitality fading away."  
"You speak as if you are talking of yourself," replied Desiree.  
"Perhaps I do. Why is it that our conversations invariably turn to things of unhappiness, Desiree?," he replied.  
"Something about you is conductive to unhappiness, Excellency, but I am drawn to you. Perhaps it is because you seem to be carrying some enourmous cross," said Desiree.  
"What an odd choice of words for me," said the Count with a slight smile. "My particular cross is best known to me alone, Desiree. I would hate to ruin this evening with unpleasantness."  
"I think you are an enigma, and a mystery. There is something I find troubling about you. I wish I knew what it was. You know what lies beneath my mask, Excellency. You know that I am not like the others. I know you are not like them, but I have yet to figure out what you hide," said Desiree.  
"Desiree, you would be wise to live by the rule that if someone feels the need to hide something from you, you are better off for not knowing," said the Count. "We shall not dwell any more upon these things."  
At that time, the servant came through the doors carrying a silver tray with a decanter of wine upon it. "Wine, Excellency?," he offered. The Count nodded, and Desiree could not help but notice the way the servant's hands shook as he poured the dark red drink. He started to pour some of the rich liquid into Desiree's goblet, but the Count grabbed his wrist with an almost startling force.  
"No, fool! Do you wish to make the lady light-headed? This is much to strong for a lady, perhaps a weaker vintage will be more to her liking," said the Count, thrusting the decanter away from Desiree. "The man's wits aren't about him, Desiree," he continued as the servant disappered through the doors.  
"I would think it to be poison, Excellency," replied Desiree.  
"It would be for one so young and no doubt intolerent to such a brew," said the Count.  
"You should not be so harsh to your servant, Excellency. You do remember that I am a servant too?," said Desiree.  
"You do not have to be a servant, Desiree.The world could be your footstool," replied the Count.  
"When my own father will not claim me in broad daylight, Excellency, there is little chance of the world being my footstool," said Desiree bitterly.  
"Escape the chains that he has put around you! Stay with me and make them regret every ill word they ever uttered against you," offered the Count. Before she could reply, the servant entered the dining hall with the food. He set before her a large plate of duck, with all the fixings, and poured a nice, clear wine in her cup.  
"Thank you, it is lovely, Excellency," she replied.  
"Answer me, Desiree. Will you break those chains with me or will you let them bind you forever?," pressed the Count.  
"Do you love me, Excellency?," asked Desiree softly.  
In response, the Count pulled a beautiful red rose from under the table as if by magic, and handed it to her. Desiree gasped as one of the thorns pricked her finger. The Count quickly took her hand in his own, and raised the bloody tip of her finger to his mouth and kissed it. "I love you enough to want to keep you here with me forever," he replied, slowly moving his lips away from her fingers. "Beware the thorns, my dear. Your fingers are much to delicate."  
"Excellency, where did you disappear to so abruptly at the ball?," asked Desiree quizzically.  
"I come and go, Desiree," he answered vaugely.  
"Excellency, I did not see your reflection in the mirrors of the palace halls, and when I turned around, you were gone," she replied.  
The Count stiffened. "I am aware of what you think you saw, Desiree, but you must forget it. You are mistaken," he said positively.  
"What sort of man comes robed in darkness to a ball, and then disappears just as quickly and quitely as he arrived?," aske Desiree.  
"A vampire?," he laughed sardonically.  
Desiree laughed heartily at his reply. "I know not what you are, but I ask you never to disappear again."  
"That I cannot promise. I come and go, but I vow this, I shall take you with me the next time I disappear," replied the Count myteriously.  
Desiree smiled and said, "You make life sound like such an adventure."  
"Life is an adventure; death is too I suppose," replied von Krolock, running the tips of his long fingers around the rim of his wine goblet. "Shall I take you on that adventure with me, Meine Liebe? For when we begin our journey together, you will never be able to leave my side."  
"What reason would I have to leave you?," asked Desiree.  
"I am a man of secrets, my dear. Should you unwittingly fall upon one of the pitfals of my past, I would not want it to frighten you," said the Count.  
"You do frighten me, but it is a thrill. It is the same fear that I would feel should an angel walk into the room. Terrified of its power, but mystified by it," replied Desiree.  
The Count arose from the table, and beckoned for Desiree to rise with him. He took her small hand in his and said, "Desiree, because I see a certain quality in you lacking in most human beings, I want you to flee this place. I want you to go, and live! You cannot abide with me in this darkness, this mad world that I inhabit."  
"No! I will not leave! You promised to take me away from this place!," she said hotly, shocked by his words.  
"Could you not better serve others like yourself among the people rather than buried in Bavaria with me? It would shock the very core of your innocence to see the way I exist," replied the Count. "You must go. Do not force me to frighten you away."  
"I am helpless! I have no voice to serve anyone! My father would rather see me chained to slavery rather than to have a husband of any worth! They want to keep me in the gutter, Excellency! You could stop them!," she cried.  
"Go, Desiree," he repeated mechanically, clutching his fists. "I ask you kindly to leave me."  
"But..," she trailed.  
"Get out! Leave me in peace!," he roared, throwing one of the heavy oaken chairs as if it were light as a feather.  
Desiree screamed, and ran to the doors. She fled down the halls to the mouth of the mansion, and down the steps as if the hounds of Hell were in hot pursuit of her.  
When she reached her father's house, her face was flushed with tears; tears of anger and heartache. "Why did he turn on me so? He must be a madman, but bloody, I love him! I love him!," she cried to herself in agony. *  
Her heart pounded in her chest as she awoke from a nightmare with a scream. Deisree clutched her breast as it heaved with despiration. It was the Count. He tormented her sleep yet and it had only been three days since she departed from him. The pain was too much. The more she thought upon his eyes, those peircing eyes, the more she ached for him. Never had she felt anything so strong, so passionate as the desire that welled in her. He could not keep her away from him with an honorable act of sparing her. She knew not his secrets, but she loved him. The Count had said more to her in a few hours than all the books and philosophies she had read about. He was her inspiration, and she needed him beyond all things.  
Desiree quietly slipped from her bed, and put on a thick wool paisely dress, and her warmest bonnet and boots. She would go to him, and this time, refuse to let go. *  
There was silence around the old mansion that the Count inhabited. Snow was begining to fall, and the cold was almost agonizing. She placed her hand to the door, but then someone grabbed her. "I told you to stay away from here, Desiree! When I tell you to do something, it is for a good reason, Fraulein!," said the Count, gripping her hand a little tighter as he looked into her eyes. She was so beautiful standing there like a lost child in the winter streets.  
"I wanted to come back to you," she replied, then Desiree kissed his lips passionately. "I'm not afraid of you anymore. I only want to be yours forever."  
He clutched her to him roughly and said, "You know not what you say, dear child. You think of love as a silly fairytale, but that is not my kind of love, Desiree. My kind of love burns up the objects of it."  
"Then let me burn with you, Henrich," she said, kissing him once more.  
Without a word, he opened the door to the mansion, and carried her up the steps. All was silent inside, save for her gasps when he kissed her. Desiree trembled as he pressed his hands along the curves of her breasts. He took her lustily in his arms, and she let her head fall against his shoulder as he moved along the halls. The dark shadows on the walls seemed to be welcoming her back. After what seemed like an eternity, he arrived at his bed chamber. The room was glowing with the faint light of a few candles, and Desiree felt as if she would burst when he lay her upon the enourmous canopy bed. The crimson drapings witheld the light and she felt engulfed by the darkness.  
Henrich removed his cape and boots before moving over her with the ease of a much-experienced lover. The Count lowered himself to his knees, and pulled her tall boots from her feet. He pressed their softness to his face, and pulled away her bloomers. Desiree gasped as he pulled her closer to him. He effortlessly unfastened her cloak, and started unlacing the neck of her gown. "You have a beautiful neck, Desiree. You must not hide it from me again with these collars," he said, caressing her throat with his mouth. Henrich plucked open the back of her gown and kissed her shoulders as they were revealed to him. "Such perfection," said the Count against her shoulder. He moved from her shoulders to the light camisole she wore. Henrich caught the laces between his teeth, and pulled them loose. Desiree caught her breath as she slowly came out of her covering. He put his lips to the tenderness of her breasts, and savored their innocent softness.  
"Henrich, I have never known a man," she whispered. "Will it hurt?"  
He smiled and said, "The hurt fast gives way to pleasure, Meine Liebe. The night is long yet, innocence. I will show you anything you desire. First, you must learn its the anticipation that makes the pleasure." With that, he pulled her skirts away and covered her hips with his hands. "Open yourself to me, Desiree," he whispered, lying her back into the velvet pillows. She felt his hand journey to the insides of her thighs, telling her to part her legs. Desiree slowly obeyed his silent command, and innocently asked, "You will not leave me like my father did my mother, will you? Please lie to me and say that you will not!"  
"There are no lies between us after tonight, Desiree. We will be one forever," he whispered, entering her as gently as possible.  
All was silent except for the sounds of their passion. Desiree was ashamed of the way she responded to him for fear the servant would hear her cries of love. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She did not know if she was being ravished or pushed to the hights of passion and other worldly pleasure. Moaning there in the darkness with her mysterious lover, Desiree felt as if she would die if his passion intensified. He thrust into her against the velvet pillows as he kissed her in a way unimaginable. She arched her body up to his and he groaned with pleasure as she returned his movements. "Henrich!," she cried loudly against his lips as he pulled away from her.  
"I cannot control it any longer, Desiree! I warned you to stay away from me!," cried the Count mournfully as two razor-sharp teeth revealed themselves.  
Desiree had been experiencing the most pleasurable moment of her life, then it was flooded with pure terror. Her eyes widened, and a mortifying scream echoed through the chamber. The Count brought his mouth down forcefully over hers and kissed her ravishingly. Everything went black as the force of the Count's caress intensified.  
How he wanted to make her his forever as she lay there so defensless against him. However, the Count did not want to earn her hatred. It must be done of her own free will. He retrieved her petticoat, camisole, and bloomers from the floor, and dressed her shivering body. Her disheveled beauty aroused his passions, but he vowed not to turn her. The thin camisole revealed the peaks of her breasts, and the Count suckled the rosy tips through the cloth. He moved his hand beneath her petticoat and between the warmth of her hips. His fingers caressed her rosebud softness that he had entered only moments ago. He wanted to take her again, and he would as soon as she was willing. Feeling her body, warm and soft, next to his reminded him of how much he missed living. He must make her willing again before sunrise, for he could never contain himself any longer. Henrich only wanted a taste of her, if he could limit himself to just that. The drop of blood on her fingertip had been inviting at supper, but it was not enough to sait his hunger. Henrich opened his mouth to bite, but just then Desiree stirred. He felt her body become ridged in his arms, and she struggled to free herself from him. "Let me go! You evil, dispicable creature!," she screamed.  
The Count braced her struggling limbs and held her roughly to him. "My lady has awoken from her innocence to find she loves a monster!," he replied sardonically. "Did I not warn you, Desiree? Did I not tell you to leave?"  
"You have decieved me!," she cried.  
"Nay, you have decieved yourself! I have been very truthful to you, Desiree. I have offered you more than anyone else ever has, even your own father. What reason do you have not to stay with me now?," said the Count roughly, releasing her.  
"What have you done to me? You are not human!," she scream, covering herself with the velvet drapings.  
"And just who is human, Desiree? Your father? Maybe your sisters? Or perhaps those assembled at the ball were human! And I, the one who has offered you the world, am put on the level of some slithering, low creature unworthy of the mass of decay that makes me up! Your sense of humanity amazes me, my dear!," roared Henrich with such a fury it terrified Desiree even more.  
Desiree shivered in fear as he grabbed her and pulled the cover away from her. "Will you now kill me, Excellency?," she spat back at him.  
"No," he said, stroaking the side of her cheek with his hand. "You are mine, Desiree. After centuries of love making, I know when a woman belongs to me. You know it as well as I do. Why try to put up this act?" Desiree felt her resistance giving way to his words. "Have I been brutal or unkind to you, Meine Leibe? Answer that."  
"No," she replied in a whisper.  
The Count pulled her to him more gently this time at her response and said in a softer timbre, "Because of what I am, you fear me. Yet I tell you that I will not hurt you. Come to me, Desiree. Do not be afraid any longer. It pains me to see you cower from my hand."  
Desiree let herself fall into his arms as she remembered their night together. "You did not hurt me. I even found myself falling in love with you."  
"And do you still love me, Meine Liebe?," he asked.  
"I don't know. I cannot tell you what I feel," she whispered.  
"I want you to live, Desiree, and yet how I want to keep you. I cannot keep you as long as you live," replied the Count.  
Desiree gasped with anticipation as he ran his large hands under the camisole, and eagerly brushed her hair away from her neck. She did not resist, but he felt the fear coursing through her body. When the time came to turn her, she would not be afraid, but eager. Henrich had to have a taste of her. She belonged only to him, and he vowed that no mortal man would ever touch her. He gently pressed his teeth to the side of her lovely neck, and drank hungrily, yet sparingly. She gave a little groan of pain at first, but it slowly turned to pleasure. The Count removed his fangs from her, and said quietly, "If I do not stop, I will turn you in spite of myself." Then, he kissed the wound his fangs had made upon her throat.  
Desiree was light-headed as he took her back to the bed, and lay her down. "Gentle this time, I promise," he whispered in her ear as he mounted her. Henrich pulled her petticoat above her thighs, and kissed her hungrily. She slowly began to return his kisses as he pressed into her.  
"Henrich, I think I am dying," she gasped feeling his passionate force all through her.  
"No, you are not dying. There will be no doubts when and if I turn you," he replied.  
"I have foolishly allowed myself to love you," she cried against his lips, and gave a little tremble as his lips journeyed to her neck. "Why do I trust you? I should run from you, but I can't! I can't run from you!"  
"Do not try to run, Desiree. There is nothing so sweet as surrender," he said seductively, pressing her down into the covers. She slowly slipped into a fitful sleep within the Count's embrace. *  
It was only an hour or so before dawn when the Count saw her to the door of the castle. "I shall call for you again when the time is right, Desiree. My time grows short in England. Be prepared, Meine Liebe," said the Count, caressing her cheek.  
"I will be waiting. I do not want to go back, Henrich!," replied Desiree.  
"The time will not be long, Desiree, then I shall take you back with me forever," he said. "But you must go now. The sun will be rising soon. I will be watching over you."  
Desiree kissed him passionately before she slowly made her way down the steps. He was gone in instant, and Desiree felt the coldness of the streets once more. She ran through the snow-covered streets trying to beat the rising sun. Desiree climbed down through the basement, and took off her boots to prevent from being heard. The house was quiet except for the servants making the morning meal in the scullery. She slid past them unseen, and made her way silently to her room. Desiree closed the door behind her and gave a sigh of releif, until she turned around. James Hightower was waiting for her.  
"Papa!," she gasped.  
"When I told you the ball would be a place for you to find exitement, I did not mean for you to make a whore of yourself!," he raged.  
"What do you mean?," she cried.  
"Do you think I'm a fool, Desiree? You come here, tosseled and wrinkled after being out all night. The servants in this house help me keep watch over my children, and that includes you! Two nights you have tried to slither up to your room unnoticed from the scullery! Who have you been seeing? Is it that man from the ball, because if it is, I will challenge him!," demanded James.  
"You cannot challenge him! It would mean death for you!," screamed Desiree.  
"Do you think me unable to shoot, girl? It is your fault that I am now faced with this! Do you really think that man will marry you? He is a Count, and you are a..," he trailed off.  
"Why don't you say it? Tell me what I am! How are you more of a human being than I? Tell me!," she demanded feircely.  
"You have dishonored me, Desiree!," he replied, avoiding her demands.  
"I dishonored you when I took my first breath, didn't I? No, you dishonored yourself!," she screamed, summoning his hand against her face.  
"You are everything they said you were, aren't you? If I had my wits, I would turn you out and allow you to go play the whore with whatever you desired. However, you are my daughter. I know a convent where I can send you. Maybe the nuns will be able to preach Hell out of you!," said James.  
"If you challenge the Count, you are killing yourself. He is not a man to be challenged," replied Desiree. "If I had my wits, I would allow you to go to him unwarned, but you are my father."  
"You will say nothing further to me, you ungrateful girl! This is to avenge you! No man will ever want you after this!," stormed James.  
"His Excellency is more than a man, that's why I tell you to be weary of him! I love him, and I will find a way to go away with him! You will not stop me!," cried Desiree as her father pushed her back into the room.  
"You will not get out of this house until it has been done!," he said, locking her in the room.  
Desiree pounded her fists against the door like a madwoman, crying out to him, "No! No! You can't do this! You cannot challenge him!"  
However, her father, unwisely paying her no heed, went to his rifle cabinet, and selected his weapon. He would have revenge or die trying to defend Desiree's honor. *  
"Excellency," stammered the trembling servant, "A man is here to see you. He seems very angry!"  
"What man? You know how I feel about uninvited guests!," retorted the Count from inside the darkness of his chamber.  
"It is the girl's father, Excellency!," replied the servant.  
The Count arose from his chair. "I should have known he would find her out. Show him in."  
James Hightower stormed through the doors past the servant. He met eyes with the Count before a word was spoken, and was speachless. There was something indeed frightening about this man.  
"What is your business with me?," said the Count.  
"My daughter, Desiree, has been wronged by you. Did you not think I would notice that she was gone all night?," replied James.  
"Wronged by me? It occurs to me, Sir, that Desiree has been wronged by simply the accident of her birth," said the Count.  
"You know nothing about her! I have raised her as if she was...," began James.  
"As if she were white, Sir? As if she were a favored servant?," finished the Count. "I give Desiree what she dreams of having, Sir."  
"I will give you something, Excellency! A challenge! Unless you are not man to encounter it!," threatened James.  
The Count thought a moment and replied, "Because I have some humanity left, I decline your challenge. Leave me alone, Sir."  
"Coward! Are you unsure of your skill with a rifle?," retorted James.  
The Count laughed grimly, and said, "I fear not you rifle, Sir!" Henrich grabbed the weapon from James' hand easily. "Shall I show you how little I fear your weapon?" He turned the rifle on himself, and pulled the trigger, summoning a cry from James. He saw how the bullet made no impression, not even a wince of pain, from the Count. James stood completely speechless before Henrich. "I tell you now, go away from here and forget what you have seen!," he said, raising his hand to his eyes. James fell to the floor in a trance, and the Count order his servant to carry him home.  
"Foolish man," said the Count to himself. "He had better think himself lucky that I prize Desiree too much to kill him." He walked around his chamber like a caged lion, trying to fight the desire to call Desiree to him again. "But I will have her again. There's none to soothe the hunger, Meine Liebe. I will leave England as soon as I have her. T'will be best if we just disappear without a trace. It will begin tonight, as soon as I am able to leave the house."  
The Count rang his bell for the servant, and the shivering little man appeared within seconds. "Listen to me, and listen closely. Allow no one into the house. When I go out for the night, I will bring Desiree with me, and we shall return to Bavaria. As far as my stay in England, Count von Krolock is dead." *  
Desiree lay red-eyed with tears on the floor of her bedroom. There was no escape. Her father had boarded the window to her room, and the door was locked and bolted. He refused to answer her no matter how much she wailed and screamed. Henrich would not be able to help her until sundown, but she feared she could not wait that long. Desiree wanted to be near him.  
Her eyes scanned the cracks in the floor as she lay there in tears; then, she was struck with an idea If she could pry up the boards, she could reach the basement of the house. She wedged her fingers against the nails, and used all her strenght to to avail. The nails held fast. "Damn!," she cried as the boards pinched her fingers.  
She crawled under her bed and removed one of the iron rods that held the mattress in place. Desiree gasped with victory as the boards began to move under the force of the rod. There was a space just big enough to slip through in a matter of moments. She piled her few belongings into a bag, and pulled her thick cape around her shoulders. "Good ridance!," she said to her surroundings before slipping through the hole she had made in the floor.  
The cold wind nearly threw her backwards when she emerged from the basement door into the street outside. She had no money for the carriage, and she would never part with the Count's ring for a meer ride in a hack. Few people, except for the homeless and traders, were out on the bitter cold streets. It would be about two hours until sundown, and she knew that the Count's servant would allow her in to wait for him. The Count lived on the outskirts of the city, but it was not a terribly long walk. However, the ice and snow made it hard to walk even the slightest distance. She knew he would be there when she reached the mansion, ready to offer her a new life with him, and that was enough to keep her going.  
When she finally saw the turrets of the mansion, she began to run on her nearly frozen feet. She lost her footing, and fell in the wet, freezing snow, but even that did not detour her. Desiree grabbed the iron gates and shook them with her numb hands. "Open the gates! It is Desiree!," she cried to the servant, but nothing stirred. All was quiet as death. "Please, open the gate! I'm so cold!," she pleaded again. Yet still, there was no answer. Her eyes welled with tears as she screamed, "Henrich!"  
Inside the mansion, the Count's eyes flew wide open at the sound of her call. He arose from his sleep, but he knew it was still light outside. He called for the servant, but he suddenly remember that he had sent him into the city to prepare for the voyage back to Bavaria. "Desiree!," he cried out from the bowels of the his chamber, but it was to no avail. She could not hear him as long as the light shown, but he could hear her. Her freezing cries for help echoed though the chamber, and rang in his ears as if to torture him. The servant would not be back before sundown, and there was an hour still to pass before he could be free. Henrich looked toward the boarded and shuttered windows of his chamber, and for a moment was tempted to tear them asunder and let the light flood the room. Iron chains and fortififed walls could not hold him; that had been tried over the centuries. However, the slightest shard of light was more painful than the fires of Hell. The most dreadful moan escaped his being as he lamented his helplessness. "All this power, how like a god, but how useless against the light!," he cried out in misery. He could not feel her responding to his pleas to leave the gate, but he could indeed hear her mad cries. *  
Desiree lay cold and slumped against the iron gate as her eyes searched madly for anyone to come to her aid. Her wet gown and cape had frozen around her, and she could not feel her hands as they clutched the iron bars that seperated her from the Count. "Where is the servant?," she asked herself. "Why can I not hear Henrich's voice? He has gone as he warned me that he would. Gone and left me!" She pried herself away from the gate, and fell back into the snow. "There is nothing left for me to live for....or die for. I wish to simply cease to exist....just to die here in the snow never to be heard from again."  
The sun was slowly hiding behind the horizon, and the Count's real miseries began when he no longer heard Desiree's cries. Moments passed like hours, until finally, the last ray of light disappeared. Henrich tore away the shuttered windows, and flew to Desiree's side at the gate. He had forgotten the frailty of human life until he beheld her form lying there, lifeless in the snow. "Desiree," he whispered, as he took her body in his arms. Henrich held her to his bosom, searching for that unmistakable sign of life. He felt her nearly frozen blood pulsating slowly and almost silently through her veins. "Meine Liebe, my foolish little rose," said Henrich against her cheek. Then, the Count felt something he had not felt in a long time. He did not lust for her blood when he saw her there at death's portal; he wanted to see her breathe freely, and dance as lithely as she did the night of the ball. "If there is a chance for you to live, I will allow you to find it, Desiree. I must find the resolution within this damned soul to take you home." *  
There came a loud, demanding knock at the door of James Hightower's house, and the maid ran hurriedly to answer it. The figure of Count von Krolock with Desiree's limb body appeared in the portal. The maid have a blood-curdling scream at the sight of the ghastly man, but he shoved by her. "There is no time for your foolish hysteria! Desiree was caught out in the snow tonight! Go get her father!," demanded the Count. He held Desiree's freezing form close to him, and felt her tender, young heart beating weakly against his chest. If he had possessed tears to shed, they would have flooded upon her now. "She's dying," he said to himself. "I should let you die, and rest, Meine Liebe. How I wish I could go to rest with you!"  
"Desiree!," cried her father's anguished voice as he beheld her there in the Count's arms. "Let me see her!," he said, running to the girl's side. Tears poured down his cheeks at the sight of her frost-bitten hands, and he cried, "My child! Desiree, my God, I have forced you to this! God in Heaven forgive me!" James looked up towards the Count. "This happened because of you! She was trying to get to you when this happened! Give her to me! She is my child!"  
Henrich released her to her father without a word. "Yes, I suppose it is because of me. I love the girl, but it would be better for her to die than to live with me!"  
"Leave her alone! Is it not enough that you took the only think she had to give?," cried James.  
"Do not worry, Mein Herr. Hell is hungry for me. In due time, I'm sure your God and his angels will seek their justice. I am not here to discuss my damnation, but to give Desiree a chance," he replied grimly.  
"I'm taking her to her room," said James between his tears. The Count watched as James carried his daughter up to her room. He would have to resolve to let her die or to turn her quickly, for she was hanging on to life by a thread. *  
  
Henrich watched unseen from a corner of the bed chamber as the doctor prepared Desiree's father for the almost certain death of his daughter. She lay there, so beautiful, in her long white gown, but Henrich could feel her blood boiling. He knew that she was angry, and fighting against death. Her eyes looked up almost dispisingly at the preacher as he prayed over her. She did not want to die!  
"Master Hightower, pnewmonia has set in. The girl's chances of survival are slim to none,"said the doctor. James sat with his head in his hands, shaking with his own guilt and sorrow. "It was absolute suicide or lunacy to stay out in that weather."  
"Have you nothing else to say?," asked James disparingly.  
"Keep her comfortable, Sir," said the doctor, arising and leaving the room.  
"Wait!," cried James, following behind him, leaving Desiree alone with the preacher.  
His prayers were bearly audible, and Desiree seemed to be fighting against the death he predicted for her. The Count slowly emerged from the shadows, catching the preacher's attention. "I have come to see her. How beautiful she is," said the Count.  
"Master Hightower does not know you are here," said the Preacher.  
"No, and you will not tell him. I am the reason the girl lies in this state, and I shall come to her to make amends for it, if amends can be made. As your Bible says, I am in a strait betwix two, longing to stay and longing to depart," replied Henrich, searching the preacher with his eyes for a cross. He saw none. "You will go now, I wish to be alone with her."  
The preacher silently obeyed him, and the Count locked the chamber. "Desiree," he said quietly, kneeling at her bedside.  
She gave a slight moan, and opened her eyes. "Henrich," her weak voice called. "I wanted you to come to me. I begged as I lay there freezing for you to come. That snow seemed like the fires of Hell as I lay there wanting you."  
"Desiree," he said mournfully. "There is nothing in Heaven or Hell that would keep us apart were it not for my curse!"  
"Bless me with your curse, Henrich. I don't want to die...not like this. They are going to bury me in the servant's plot! Did not you say that you would make the world my footstool if I desired?," she gasped.  
Henrich came over her body with his own, and clutched her to him. She was now raging with fever where she had once been so cold. "Do not force me to do this to you, Desiree!"  
"I don't know the price of immortality, Henrich, but I do know that I love you. All the days of my life I have been longing for you. I knew it when I saw you at the ball. We are two apart from the rest," she said. "I want to go back to Bavaria with you...I want to feel you near me like we were for all time."  
Henrich felt his fangs elongating, but by some effort, he pulled away from her and arose for me bed. "Why will you not die, and let fate decide this for me?," he cried.  
Desiree struggled up from the bed, and staggered towards the Count. She braced herself against his shoulders and cried out, "You decide my fate, Henrich." He turned to her, andlooked into her eyes long and hard. They were dying orbs, and he knew it. "I will not forget the way it was. I was afraid then, but I'm not now." Desiree fell against his chest, too weak to stand any longer. "If you leave me this time, there will not be another chance. Henrich, please...." She ran her frost-bitten fingers along his face as he lowered her down to the floor.  
The Count lowered his mouth to the place where he had drank from her before. He sank his fangs into the wound, summoning a gasp of painful ecstacy from Desiree. She was so near the point of death until she bearly recongnised slipping into the ghastly sleep. Henrich felt her die in his arms, and he kissed her soft hair as she lay there in his embrace. Desiree was his, and she would never have to wander in death's shade. *  
The carriage stopped after journeying through the woods for about an hour. Her eyes peered out the window, and into the darkness surrounding the Count's castle. It was nestled in the dark trees, and its stone walls somehow looked like a haven to Desiree. "'Tis beautiful, Henrich," she said longingly, as his hand touched hers.  
"This is your home now, Desiree. You will live here with me forever," he said, kissing her passionately. Her new pair of fangs glowed at him as the moonlight streamed through the carriage. Desiree pulled down his collar, and he allowed her to drink from him again, as he had many times on their long journey from England. She removed her mouth for his neck and kissed him with a desire so intense it was painful.  
"I would be dead and buried by now had you not come back for me," she whispered. "Now, I have an eternity of wonderous things to look forward to."  
"You think me wonderous?," asked the Count.  
"Yes, Henrich, I find you wonderous in the same way any woman finds the man she loves," replied Desiree.  
"There is still much to discover, Desiree. Tonight will be just the begining of that discovery," he said, pulling her closer.  
"Yes, Meine Liebe," she whispered to him.  
With that, the Count lifted her out of the carriage, and carried her away into his vast kingdom of night, where they would live passionately forever.  
  
FINIS 


End file.
